


With or Without You

by Jaysop



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Appendicitis, Caretaking, Crying, Emetophilia, Fever, Fluff, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Murder husbands living quietly off the grid AU, Panic, Pissed but comforting! Will, Separation Anxiety, Sick!Hannibal, Sickfic, Vomit, Vulnerable!Hannibal, or trying to at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 01:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5478743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaysop/pseuds/Jaysop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a particularly bad fight with Hannibal, Will decides to hole up in a dingy motel for a few days. Neither man tolerates the separation very well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With or Without You

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt: Maybe could you write something about Hannibal with appendicitis. Except he and will are fighting about something (maybe Hannibal slipped up on the whole not killing people not approved by Will thing) and Will had decided to get a hotel room for a few days to cool off. Cue Hannibal getting sick and at first when Hannibal calls Will lets it go to voicemail because he's sure he's just trying to get him to come home but by the fourth time he's screened Hannibal's call he's worried and he rushes back in time to get Hannibal to the hospital where surgery happens, the boys work on their issues, and everything is okay in the end. Obviously it's up to you but I'd love to read this!
> 
> jaysop:
> 
> So...I've been writing this since pretty much the day you sent me this prompt anon...which was a while ago I know. And in the middle of it all I may have had a tiny little mental breakdown and I may have deleted everything...including my tumblr if any of you were following it. But it's all ok...because I'm back now from where ever it was I went. I hope you all enjoy this one. Love you guys <3
> 
> EDIT 2.7.16  
> Just changed the annoying italics to plain text because it hurts my eyes to read.

~~~

The phone buzzed to life again, just out of reach on the end table where he had left it. The sound pulled him to the surface. It was jarring in the silence. The abruptness of it dug into his gut. It made his throat feel tight. The screen glowed blinding bright and harsh.  Will blinked at it as the full weight of his current situation gathered itself up and settled on top of the space between his shoulder blades.

There was the feeling of sudden disappointment. He had worked quite hard to forget about Hannibal for the moment, had been working on it all night actually. And all of yesterday. And last night. And the day before that, as the bottles decorating the floor of the hotel room would suggest.  

Will fumbled for the light. It came on with a click and cut into his eyes. Squinting, he swiped the surface of his phone until the awful vibrations stopped. Silenced phone in hand, Will flopped back against the unmade bed with a sigh.

He was staring at the phone now, the screen gone black. A cloudy version of himself stared back, marred by smudges and fingerprints. This version of himself had puffy eyes and somehow seemed older. He seemed very tired.  Will rubbed the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again there was Hannibal, his photo at least, as his phone buzzed again.

Absently, Will swiped decline.

He reached blindly for the bottle near his foot. It was nearly empty. He swirled the last of its amber contents before tipping it back. Disheartened, he let the bottle slowly fall from his fingertips. It hit the motel carpet with a muffled thud and rolled until it stopped against the dresser.

Fine. There were other ways to keep Hannibal out of his head.  

Slowly, Will closed his eyes, filled his lungs deep, and held his breath. He concentrated on the last time he had been out fishing, alone on a chilly Sunday morning, a light fog rolling in as the sun had only begun its climb above the tree line.  Another deep breath in. A slow exhale out his nose.

Will remembered.

He could smell the freshness of dew gathered on leaves. The sound of rushing river water filled his ears. He opened his eyes and there was calm here. The weight of a rod and reel felt balanced in his hands. He was safe here in his quiet place. And alone.

For someone so accustomed to being alone, for someone who always found a certain peace was to be had in solitude, if you knew how to enjoy it, Will couldn’t shake the churning in his gut, the uncomfortable pull at the center of his chest, leading him somewhere else. Leading him away from this place.

Then a sound like cicadas, but lacking the inherent rhythm of cicadas, cut loud into Will’s head. The rod and reel turned to his phone buzzing, and the river melted away to the dark stuffy motel room, with Will sprawled out on the bed.

The photo of Hannibal stared up at him, a slight annoyance in his eyes as if Will’s persistence at not answering was a mild inconvenience. Will let it keep ringing this time. He stared back at the photo, remembered that day when he had taken it.

~~~

“Is this really necessary?” Hannibal was preening in front of the mirror, expertly knotting a paisley tie that he had spent far too much time picking out, in Will’s humble opinion.

“Necessary?” Will said, appearing behind Hannibal in the mirror, chin rested on his shoulder, arms encircling his waist. “For me, yes. Very necessary.”

“I don’t particularly like having my picture taken, Will.”

Will nuzzled in close and began placing warm kisses along Hannibal’s neck. “I know. But it would make me happy. That way I will see you whenever you call.”

“You see me all the time,” Hannibal said dryly, turning to face Will and give him a slightly irritated glare. Will pulled him close and kissed his lips, making sure to card fingers through his neatly combed hair at the same time.

The gesture didn’t go unnoticed. Hannibal, still irritated but growing less so, lifted Will off the ground. Will didn’t hesitate to wrap his legs around the taller man’s waist. “You will make me late.”

“And that wouldn’t be the end of the world,” Will said kissing him again, breathing in the addictive scent of the other’s cologne. Hannibal deposited Will into an arm chair and loosened his tie. He eyed Will hungrily. Will just smiled up at him, his phone still dangling in his hand.

“Fine.” Hannibal surrendered, quickly combing fingers through his hair.  Will licked his lips and snapped the picture before Hannibal had the chance to straighten his tie.

~~~

There were more pictures taken that morning but this first one, the one with Hannibal slightly disheveled, his eyes full of longing, it was Will’s favorite and arguably the most suitable to appear on his phone in public anyway. 

Now Hannibal’s eyes seemed to plead with him, the mild annoyance he saw once turned into something else, something squirming beneath the surface, something desperate, hidden behind a half smile.

“Damn it, Hannibal.”

Will swiped decline when Hannibal’s eyes began to burn two perfectly surgical holes into his chest. Being alone was different now. It was no longer the escape he had hoped it would be. It had turned into a prison cell, complete with a stained asbestos ceiling and yellowed floral wallpaper.  

And it had only been two days.

Will shut his eyes tight and cradled his head in his hands. He tried to hold onto his anger but it slipped out of his fingers like a freshly caught fish.

“Pathetic,” Will mumbled to himself, “I am…utterly…pathetic. Can’t even make it two days without--”

The phone buzzed again. Will threw at as far as he could across the room.

~~~

_“You have reached the voicemail of Will Graham. Please leave a message.”_

Hannibal held the phone tightly in his fist. He grimaced as another shot of pain ripped into his side. He had already left a dozen messages in various states of distress. This time, as the message recorded it was only the sounds of his ragged breathing.

He had made it half way to the bathroom before collapsing onto the floor in a very undignified heap. There he remained, his phone clutched in his hand. His stomach seized and he curled in on himself. Unable to move, he tucked into the fetal position and let out a rather pathetic moan.

The house was dark and quiet. Silently, Hannibal began to panic.

All the signs were there; the fever that had spiked this morning, the shooting pain in his belly, and now, the dizzying nausea. If it was as bad as he thought, and the pain told him that it was, he needed a hospital. His hands trembled as he tried to dial the phone again but instead dropped it.

With a frustrated growl Hannibal reached for his phone. His hands were shaking so violently he dropped it a second time. He let out a deep sigh as he gave up for the moment.

Hannibal felt heat creep sickeningly into his face as a fresh wave of nausea rolled through him. Before he had time to think, or move for that matter, he was throwing up, sick spilling onto his arm and soaking through his shirt down to the skin. He blinked through tears and gagged again. His stomach spasmed and twisted as he retched, the sick gathering in a warm puddle at his side.

Weakly, he tried to push away from it so he wasn’t sitting in the mess. He mumbled curses to himself as bright hot pain shot through his belly. Moving was out of the question. All he could do was lay there and try to dial the phone again.

It rang. It kept ringing. On the fifth ring Hannibal let out a long moan, his arm curled tightly around his stomach. His heart dropped.

_“You have reached the voicemail of Will Graham. Please leave a message.”_

“Will…” There was a tremor in Hannibal’s voice. His words were thick. He tried to breathe through the sick feeling rising up his throat. “Please…answer your phone…”

The message cut off and Hannibal felt himself breaking. He dropped the phone and began to sob.

It was a hopeless gut wrenching sound. Tears streamed from him, the kind of sobbing that’s leaves you weak and wretched, the kind that makes you cough and choke. The emotions that washed over him now were the ones that he had always steeled himself against, the ones that he had worked tirelessly to prevent himself from ever having to feel.

He felt guilt, shame, worthlessness. This was his punishment, punishment for ruining the only truly good thing in his life, punishment for driving Will away. It was too late to repent, too late to save himself. 

If he was right, and why wouldn’t he be right, all his accumulated medical knowledge told him that his appendix had already ruptured and was spilling toxins into his body. It was a ticking time bomb that was counting down to his inevitable end.

He sobbed harder, but not because he was going to die this way, on the floor, alone in the dark, in a puddle of his own vomit, but because he would never see Will again, because he would never have the chance to reconcile with the only person that mattered, with the only person that ever mattered.

~~~

Black coffee trickled into the little paper cup at the bottom of the vending machine outside Will’s motel room. It tasted awful but at least it did the trick to sober him up. The cool night air did the rest.

Will leaned against the side of the building and sipped more of the substance that pretended to be coffee. He slipped his phone out of his jacket pocket to look at it.

16 missed calls.

“Jesus Christ, Hannibal… what the hell--”

In a moment of clarity he realized there was something wrong. The number of times Hannibal had called him was excessive maybe even bordering on desperate. Hannibal’s usual strategy was to give Will the silent treatment when they were fighting, not to call him 16 times. He had already made up his mind that he was going to drive back tonight but something didn’t feel right.

Will dialed his voicemail. A tinge of panic made him tug at the collar of his shirt. He swallowed hard against the lump that was forming in his throat.

_“First voice message…”_

“Will,” Hannibal’s voice filled his ears, deep and rhythmic and as always strangely calming. His words came out slightly slurred.

 “I know you’re still very angry with me…but I’m…I’m not feeling very well…” and then a pause, “Please call me when you get this message.”

The time stamp was from last night. Will tossed the coffee cup into the trash and fumbled with his key card to get back into his room.

The next message played.

“Will…I’ve just been sick…” The voice on the phone wavered, “I’m beginning to suspect… I might need a hospital…”

The time stamp on the next message was a few hours later.

“You seem to have made up your mind…” There was a long pause. Will stopped frantically packing for a moment while he listened. “I always loved that quality about you Will…such fierce determination when you know you’re right…”

Will bristled. He thought about deleting the message. His finger hovered above the button. There was another pause and Will listened to the sounds of soft breath while Hannibal gathered his thoughts.

 “I have broken your trust.” The words were hard to get out. They stuck in Hannibal’s throat. “And in doing so…I have broken us.” There was an audible quiver in Hannibal’s voice on the last line. “For that…and for so many other things… I am sorry, Will. I need you to come home…”

The message cut off.

Will paused stunned. He hadn’t expected an apology. Apologies don’t just happen during these kinds of things, not with Hannibal. It usually ends with Will saying, “Let’s just agree to disagree, Hannibal. Let’s see if we can at least do that.” And then with Hannibal agreeing, but not doing much to hide the fact that those words were always a victory for him, that it secretly meant he had won. But this was an apology, an actually genuine heartfelt apology.

He was positive now that something was very wrong.

He could almost taste the desperation in Hannibal’s voice as it seeped out of the phone. It wasn’t a ploy to get Will to come back, not that Hannibal would ever stoop so low anyway. The words were fearful. Hannibal was _begging_.

Will shut his suitcase, clothing getting caught in the zipper and dangling out the sides. He held the phone in between his shoulder and his ear and searched the room frantically for his keys.

The messages played one after the other, chronicling Hannibal’s steady decline. Each one sounded more wretched then the last. Will kept listening, even as he threw his suitcase in the car and wrestled with his seat belt.

“Will,” Hannibal’s words were a low whisper. “I can’t change what I am…I only wish…I only wish you were here with me…I’ve never wanted anything so much…”

~~~

Hannibal let the phone fall from his fingertips on the floor beside him. It hurt too much to cry so he forced himself to stay perfectly still. He held his breath.  

The pain was all encompassing now. It started in his belly and shot into the small of his back. The fever added that uncomfortable choking feeling from being too hot and the whole mix turned his stomach over as he shivered. And he was alone. Alone and possibly, no, _most definitely_ dying.

Hannibal let out a long keening whine. He was alone and there was no one there to save face for. It didn’t matter if he sounded as wretched as he felt at that moment. Nothing mattered. He mourned bitterly for the life that was slipping through his fingers. And even more, he mourned for Will, who wasn’t there, who didn’t know about his suffering, who would never know, until it was too late.

A chime sounded. And then another, like a silver bell, small and bright. Well that’s it, he was hallucinating now. It wouldn’t be long until he lost consciousness, Hannibal mused, and then Will would find him here, maybe in a day or two, his body cold and twisted in his final throes of sickness. After everything he had been through _this_ is how it would all end. He curled in on himself and waited, surrendering to his fate.

The little chime sounded again, quite regularly actually, its source a few meager inches away lit up like a beacon. Hannibal grabbed at it not really excepting it to be anything more than his subconscious longing to hear Will’s voice, one last time at least.

“Hannibal?” The voice was far away as if it came from behind plate glass…but it was real.

He couldn’t speak at first, the relief at hearing that voice through the phone had him crying again, until a shot of pain lit up sharp in his stomach.

“Will…It is good to hear your voice.”

“I’m on my way to you,” Will said putting the phone on speaker and tossing it in his lap. “Hannibal…I’m so sorry…I should have been there…”

“Don’t apologize, my love,” Hannibal whispered, "You needn't apologize. Not to me."

"No. I should have answered. I know I always say _you’re_ stubborn but..."

"But…we are just alike." Hannibal seemed to calm with Will’s voice in his ear. Just knowing he would be there soon soothed him.

"Yes, we are,” Will said as he pulled onto the road in a flurry of gravel and screeching tires.

~~~

It wasn’t a far drive to make it back to the safe house. Will arrived soon enough, coming to an abrupt halt and all but jumping out of the moving car before he threw it into park. He clambered up the driveway and let himself inside to a suspiciously dark and quiet house.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust but when they did he made out the sight of Hannibal curled on his side in the middle of the living room floor.

“Oh god...” Will crouched down over Hannibal's huddled form. He reached out a cautious hand and touched his cheek. The cool brush of his fingertips roused him and Hannibal opened his eyes to see the blurry apparition of Will hovering above him.

“Hello, Will.” Hannibal’s voice was hoarse. He blinked up at Will and a slight smile curved into his lips. Will cupped his face in both hands.

“You could have left a message you know,” he said helping Hannibal to slowly sit up.

“I…considered it,” Hannibal said before groaning as his stomach muscled strained.

His skin was cool and damp, hair matted against his forehead and falling into his eyes. Will tried to maneuver him clear of the foul mess that was cooling on the carpet around him.

“Do you think you can manage to walk?” Will asked hopeful. “Maybe at least get you off the floor. Common.”

Will shouldered all of Hannibal’s weight and lifted him to his feet. He sucked in a sharp gasp as he stood on wobbly legs. The change in elevation was dizzying. Hannibal swallowed hard against the bile that was intent on coming up his throat.

They shuffled their way to the couch at the far end of the living room. Will tried to let him down gently but Hannibal collapsed instead. He landed with a little grunt.

“You’re definitely a mess,” Will said as he began to peel the sweat soaked shirt from Hannibal’s body, awkwardly pulling it over his head. Hannibal shivered as cool air hit damp skin.

“I’d have to agree with you,” he mumbled as Will wrapped a thin bed sheet around bare shoulders.

 “Will…I need a hospital…” His voice was jittery coming from between chattering teeth.

“I know. So you said.” Will brushed the hair from Hannibal’s forehead and tucked a few strands behind his ear. “But since you seem to have forgotten we can’t _go_ to a hospital I have taken the liberty of bringing the hospital to you. You have maybe another hour to wait.”

“I might not have another hour,” Hannibal mumbled. His features contorted into a grimace as his stomach rolled underneath his palm. His eyes burned bright with fever as they searched Will’s face. He was trying to read him. Looking for any sign of forgiveness that might be revealed.

 Will sat down and encircled the other with a heavy arm.

“Have I ever told you that you have quite the flair for the melodramatic?” The edge of the blanket was brought up to gently wipe Hannibal’s face.  “It’s alright,” he whispered, “I’m here now.”

Hannibal fell into Will’s arms and let out a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a sob. Will just held him, rocking gently, carefully steeling himself against the torrent of emotions that followed. They were both silent after a while, when Hannibal’s trembling began to still.

Will reached under the blanket and placed a warm hand against Hannibal’s belly. The skin was taught underneath his palm.

“Does this hurt?” Will asked beginning to rub. Hannibal rested his head against Will's shoulder and closed his eyes. The slow rhythmic movement actually felt soothing. He took a deep breath and began to drift.

“I missed you.” The words were breathy. Will continued to rub him, watching his face for any sign of discomfort. He could feel Hannibal’s stomach gurgle uneasily underneath his fingertips but his expression seemed to remain relaxed. Smooth slow circles and even pressure seemed to be soothing him for the moment.

“I missed you too,” Will whispered and it was the truth.

His hands continued their circular path over Hannibal’s curved stomach. He watched the man with a morbid fascination. How Hannibal could be so strong willed and yet so broken now, not by the hands of someone else, but by his own body as it rebelled against him. Will felt a strange kind of honor to be able to witness it, as if he was the only one in the world to actually get to see Hannibal's like this.

Will stopped his hand as Hannibal’s back stiffened. His face went flush and he leaned forward, head in his hands.

 “Do you need to throw up?” Will didn’t wait for an answer. “Ok, hold on, give me a second.”

When Will returned Hannibal’s face had twisted into a tight grimace. Will sat back down beside him and offered a large bowel into his lap.

“Ugh…Will…that’s one of my good mixing bowels…” There was a sharp look of disapproval.

“This is neither the time nor place to be picky,” Will said making sure the bowel was positioned adequately underneath Hannibal’s chin. Hannibal let out a grunt of displeasure but it was cut short by the sound of a long and labored retch. It produced little more than a mouthful of saliva. Will rubbed his back through the sheet, trying to soothe him as he gagged, again bringing up nothing.

Hannibal gasped for air and coughed against the saliva stuck in his throat. Another deep sounding retch and he brought up a thin trickle of burning liquid.

“It’s alright, love,” Will was saying still rubbing circles across his back. “Shhh…I’ve got you.”

Another gag sounded and a torrent of vomit spilled from between parted lips. Most of it ended up in the bowl but some slid down the side and ended up on his pants. Hannibal groaned, vomit dripping from his chin. Almost instantly more came up, without any effort on Hannibal's part, filling the bowl with a disgusting splatter.

Will had brushed the hair from his eyes as he began to dry heave. He was shaking now, exhausted from the ordeal. Eyes were shining with unshed tears as they looked up to catch Will’s gaze.

“Just put me out of my misery."

Will took the edge of his sleeve and wiped the sick from Hannibal’s chin. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” Headlights washed over the darkened living room as a car pulled up the drive. “Ah, your savior has arrived.”

“You didn’t mention,” Hannibal said between ragged breaths, “who exactly you called…”

Will got up and started to make his way towards the door, “Let’s just say he specializes in a rather _discreet_ doctor patient relationship.”

Will opened the door. The man that entered looked more like he belonged on a fishing boat then in a doctor’s office. He wore a weathered flannel and an unruly gray beard and small round glasses perched at the end of his nose.  He carried with him a worn leather bag.

“Good to see you, Will,” the man greeted him as he entered the safe house, heavy boots no doubt leaving tracks of mud in his wake, much to Hannibal’s annoyance. He adjusted his glasses and squinted at Hannibal in the dark before clicking on the table lamp. “And you must be the one in need of some medical attention.”

“Such an _astute_ observation.” Hannibal was almost seething. His concentration on being angry broke as he stifled an unproductive gag into a cupped hand.

“How long have you been feeling poorly?” The leather bag was set down on the coffee table and opened up producing a stethoscope and a glass thermometer.

“I will require emergency surgery,” Hannibal huffed as Will gingerly lifted the bowel from his lap. “My appendix has burst. But I doubt you have the qualifications to remove it.” Another unproductive gag. “It would take slightly more skill then removing a hook from a fish.”

The thin glass thermometer was placed gently under Hannibal’s tongue while the stethoscope pressed cold against his chest and then against his stomach.

“Is he always this disagreeable?”

“He has his moments,” Will mumbled.

After much poking and prodding the leather bag was closed again. Hannibal sighed, his stomach still feeling full and heavy despite his numerous attempts to empty it. Will returned from the kitchen with Hannibal’s mixing bowl rinsed clean. He placed it in his lap and waited for the doctor’s diagnosis. 

“Well, would you like the good news or the bad news?”

“Only if the good news is that you know a qualified surgeon,” Hannibal mumbled staring down into the now clean bowel in his lap.

“Good news please,” Will said taking a seat next to Hannibal and folding his hand in his.

“The good news is your appendix can remain exactly where it is.” Hannibal looked up at him in disbelief. Will smiled and patted his hand. “And now for the bad news. You have a rather acute case of viral gastroenteritis.”

“English please doc,” Will said leaning in to listen.

“You are going to feel like absolute shit for the next few days. But more good news, it seems you have someone who doesn’t mind taking care of you.” A wink to Will.

Hannibal watched as Will ushered his friend out the door. When Will returned Hannibal looked quite dejected but none the worse for wear. He swallowed harshly and looked up at Will with an air of embarrassment mixed with shame. It was a look Will realized he had never seen before. Somehow it made him want to forget they had ever been fighting.

“Well? Should we try dragging you into bed now?” Will said smiling to soften the obvious blow to Hannibal’s already bruised ego.

Shirtless and shivering Hannibal folded his arms around himself. His hair was mussed, sticky to his face, a sheen of cooling sweat glistened in the valley of his collarbone. Dark wet patches of vomit stained through the fabric of his pajama pants. Hannibal lifted his eyes to meet Will’s with a look of utter and complete disdain for the rather undignified condition he was currently in.

“Perhaps a bath is in order first.” Will sat next to him on the couch and put an arm around him. He felt the ripples of a chill run through him.

“You really trust the diagnosis of a fisherman?” Hannibal asked disgruntled, trying to change the subject.

 “I trust him with my life, and yours,” Will said tenderly, placing a kiss on Hannibal’s forehead. “Besides being a good fisherman he’s also a highly decorated medic. Two tours in the Gulf.” And then under his breath, “He mostly patches bullet holes these days but that’s beside the point.”

There was the hint of an eye roll and a bit of a huff from Hannibal. Will began the daunting process of separating him from the clutches of the couch and adjusted underneath his arm to bear his full weight. Hannibal groaned. He did little to help as Will began the slow shuffling walk towards the bathroom.

“Did you know him…from before…” Hannibal found it hard to walk and speak at the same time. It was taking all his concentration and he opted to hang heavily on Will instead so he could continue the conversation.

“From before I met you?” Will smiled picking up on the little pang of jealousy that seeped from Hannibal’s words. Hannibal sighed and grimaced as they rounded the corner towards the hall. “I suppose it was around the same time I began sleepwalking…so I think around the same time I met you. But that’s a story for another night.”

“Perhaps…” Hannibal mumbled. He stifled a cough into his hand and then a little whine of pain as his sides ached.

Will pushed the bathroom door open with his foot and then the rest of the way with his shoulder. He maneuvered them both inside and in a clumsy sort of dance lowered Hannibal to sit on the edge of the tub. Will reached over him to turn the faucet on and stop up the drain. Hannibal looked uncharacteristically down at the floor.

“Common, you’ve got to be a little relieved. A bruised ego is worth skipping a trip to the operating table isn’t it?” Will raised an eyebrow. Hannibal just heaved another sigh.

The small bathroom began to fill with steam as the water swirled invitingly inside the tub. Will even added a few drops of the scented lavender oil Hannibal seemed to be so fond of.

Hannibal was silent during the whole process, strangely stuck inside his own head. How could his diagnosis have been wrong? The question plagued him. He startled when Will turned the faucet off and gestured for him to get undressed. When he didn’t make any effort to do so Will began stripping him of his soiled clothes.

“I know you feel like garbage,” Will said struggling to free Hannibal, one heavy leg at a time, “but a little help?”

Hannibal sighed stepping out of the ruined pajama pants. He braced himself against Will’s shoulder and lowered down slowly into the steaming bath water with a groan. Will sat down on the floor beside him, the warmth and fog in the room suddenly making him feel sleepy.

“Is this helping any?” Will asked gently. Hannibal leaned back in the tub and slowly sank under the water’s surface. He only stayed submerged for a moment, coming back up when the warm water mixed with his fever and made him begin to sweat.

“I think so,” Hannibal mumbled, his voice weary, “but the heat is making me dizzy.”

Will was opening a shampoo bottle, squeezing a small bit into his palm. Soon his hands found their way into Hannibal’s hair and began to massage through, white foam encircling his face.

“Lean back,” Will coaxed and Hannibal obeyed letting the water soak through his hair.

Will helped him to sit up again with a steady hand at his back. A wash cloth was saturated and brought to the nape of his neck, sending a torrid of lovely lavender water down his back.

Will began to rub the little cloth along the curve of his spine, dipping it in the bath again to rinse the sweat and sickness from his skin. Hannibal closed his eyes and submitted whole heartedly to Will’s care. The cloth was brought around to his chest, and down the long expanse of his torso ending at his aching stomach.

“Too hot,” Hannibal mumbled, beginning to feel faint.

“I know, I know,” Will soothed. He reached under the water to let the bath begin to drain. The water began to spiral down with a loud gurgle. Hannibal’s eyes were still closed, his forehead pressed against the cool tiled wall. Will tried to lift him but it wasn’t so easy now, not that it was all that easy before, Hannibal being complete dead weight. “Hey, stay with me.”

Hannibal’s eyes sprang open wide.  Dizzying heat rushed into his face. All Will could do was watch helplessly as Hannibal leaned forward in an awkward spasm to heave. A thin trickle of vomit dribbled from his lips. He coughed hard, shaking from the effort.

“Alright, I’ve got ya,” Will was saying, a tight grip on Hannibal’s arm. He lunged forward again, another heave violently rocking his already exhausted body. Will watched as the sick swirled down the drain with the remaining bath water.

It was a moment before Hannibal could collect himself enough to respond to Will’s gentle coaxing. Will managed to wrestle him to his feet and wrap a towel around him. It was an awkward and slow walk to the bedroom, Hannibal whimpering under his breath the whole way. He settled on the edge of the bed, shivering underneath the soft terry cloth.

A second towel ruffled through his hair, drying it as thoroughly as Will could manage. Clean pajamas were brought in and somehow Will managed to dress a rather non- responsive Hannibal, who afterwards collapsed unceremoniously on top of the blankets.

Will sighed. “You don’t do anything on a small scale do you? Even when you’re sick it’s a major affair.”

Will’s sarcasm didn’t earn a response. He set about the room looking for the waste bin to place beside Hannibal’s side of the bed.

“Will?” the voice was unsettlingly small.

“Yes, love?”

“Lay next to me...please.”

Will left the waste bin, placing Hannibal’s hand on the rim of it, just so he knew it was there. He climbed into bed beside him, pulling the blanket up over them both. Hannibal rolled onto his side and curled against Will, his damp hair tickling underneath Will’s chin.

“You are still angry.” Again, the small voice Will wasn’t used to hearing.

“Angry? Why would I be angry?” Will said, stifling a yawn.

“We both know _why_ and we both know you still are.” Hannibal settled himself against Will’s chest, his voice muffled.

 “Oh, you mean that whole business about gutting our _only_ neighbor for a five mile radius at the last safe house? And having to completely uproot our lives and move again?” Hannibal’s silence served as enough of an acknowledgement. “Oh, I’ve forgotten all about it.”

“He shouldn’t have been on our property,” Hannibal huffed, “He seemed a little too friendly if you ask m--”

Will stopped him with a hand to his mouth. “I said...I’ve forgotten all about it.”

They were both quiet for a long and drawn out moment until Hannibal shivered as another chill shook him. Will pulled him in closer, arms encircling him tight. It occurred to Will that this was the first time in two days that he had felt normal, that there wasn’t a lead weight pressing down on his chest. He buried his nose in Hannibal’s messy hair and took a deep shaky breath.

“It’s alright. Besides, I think I’m starting to like it here,” Will whispered into the dark. He placed a kiss on the top of Hannibal’s head. “Promise me we’ll stay for a while this time?”

“I’m not in the habit…of making promises I can’t keep…” Hannibal mumbled in between a little moan. Will sighed and started to rub his back again.

“While hearing the truth from you is refreshing,” Will said still rubbing broad strokes across the other’s back, “I would appreciate a different answer, Hannibal.”

A pause. “I promise.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Will said relaxing finally, letting the tension go from his shoulder blades.

Hannibal was listening to Will’s heartbeat as they held each other. The sick feeling still lingered in his empty stomach but there was a sudden calm, a shared peace that swept over him now, washed the panic from him, and brought relief into his tight chest. The steady thump of Will’s heartbeat was heavy in his ears. He was real and close and it surprised Hannibal when a few tears escaped from the corners of his eyes.

“I’m glad you came home,” he whispered, hot tears soaking into the collar of Will’s shirt.

“I am too,” Will whispered back, his breath warm in Hannibal’s hair.

~~~

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated fondly :)
> 
> also tumblr  
> [jay-sop](http://jay-sop.tumblr.com)  
> [little-known-secret](http://little-known-secret.tumblr.com)


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